


. . .And That's How Hux Remembers Winter

by pony_express



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 14:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7176242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pony_express/pseuds/pony_express
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sharp intake of breathe, a warmth spread through him,  a feeling of emptiness inside him,a dry mouth waiting with words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	. . .And That's How Hux Remembers Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [endeni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/endeni/gifts).



The snow is still falling slowly, silently as it easers the evidence of the bloody scene that came before; replacing the battle scared snow that witness the downfall of one Knight and the rise of another.

The blood now decaying in compliment with the upturned ground, on the vast wasteland; footprints, fight marks scattered out before him, staining the once pure desert.

With the sun burning low, the wind ran riot; throwing harsh blast at anyone who dare look upon the aftermath. It would curl around any fabric, trying to get at the skin underneath where it would do its worst.

A sharp intake of breathe, trying to catch a piece of the bitterness, and a break from the dragging.

A warmth spread through him fuelled by his own anger and failure kept him from the harshness.

A feeling of emptiness inside him too, as he dragged the lifeless body of his counterpart back to their Master.

A dry mouth waiting with words, to scold, to question, but he knew it wouldn’t help. Hindsight was harsher than that wind.

Eyes flicked back into life, and the first name on those too dry lips were his, and a new feeling was born deep inside, where the wind could never reach.

And all too suddenly he was beside that lifeless body, watching the colour slowly return, witnessing the most beautiful thing happen.

A hand fell to the injury, blood now dried, but mixed with fraying fabric. Those wandering fingers danced around the scar that was forming there, and a breath hissed out. Still too sore.

His hand was now on top of that one and neither of them spoke a word. Not knowing what to say, not wanting to ruin the moment, or enjoying the silence. Gently he traced the scar, ignore the other hand that now rested there.

Their eyes met and he notices. And he leans forward. Their dry lips now playfully wet and full. Colour returned, and a strange new warmth spread through both of them.

He moved his hand away to kiss his fingers lightly. Those fingers then gently touched the tender skin. A soothing kiss better, that allowed the recipient to remain in the tranquil state he now found himself.

Peace washed over them both, just as the new pure snow masked the battle-torn ground. He was the new snow, covering the bloody scene with a calming new aesthetic.

. . .And that’s how Hux remembers winter.


End file.
